Disclaimer:

Janson: Whose side are you on?

Thomas: I would like to be excluded from this narrative, one I never asked to be a part of.

-✼-

Janson was waiting for us outside. After leading us down many, many nondescript hallways, he stopped in front of an extremely heavy steel door that seemed to be air-tight. He swiped an identification card through a processor in the side of it. Then, after a few clicks, the door opened with a groan.

There was another door behind that one- leave it to W.I.C.K.E.D to be so secretive. After we had filed inside, Janson closed the first one and repeated the process to get through the second. There was a room on the other side that looked the exact same as the hallway, only beds lined the back wall. They each had a menacing sheet of shiny metal hanging over them.

Janson motioned to the beds. "This is how we're going to remove the Swipe from your brains. Don't worry, I know these devices look frightening, but the procedure won't hurt nearly as much as you might think."

"Nearly as much?" Frypan repeated incredulously. "I don't like the sound of that. So it does hurt, is what you're really saying."

"Of course you'll experience minor discomfort – it is a surgery," Janson replied indifferently. He moved briskly toward a machine beside one of the beds; it had dozens of blinking lights, monitors, buttons, and switches galore. "We will be removing a small device from the part of your brain devoted to long-term memory. But it's not as bad as it might sound, I promise." He began to fiddle with the machine's many operations.

"Wait a second," Teresa said, sounding more unsure of herself than she had earlier, "is that thing going to take away whatever's in there that lets you control us, too? And what about..." She glanced at Thomas, then started over. "Is everything going to be out of there? Everything?"

Janson nodded. "Everything except the tiny device that allows us to map your killzone patterns. And you don't have to say what you're thinking because I can see it in your eyes- no, you and Thomas and Aris won't be able to do your little trick anymore. We did turn it off temporarily, but now it'll be gone forever. However, you'll have your long-term memory restored, and we won't be able to manipulate your mind. It's a package deal, I'm afraid. Take it or leave it."

W.I.C.K.E.D had never tried to control me. If the Swipe was already starting to fade, did that mean that eventually that other stuff would, too? I had so many questions I should have asked Ava when I had the chance. Maybe I could muster up the courage to hassle Janson into answering them without being an asshole.

"That's a no-brainer," Frypan said with a chuckle. "Get it? No-brainer?"

"Shut up, Frypan," Newt sighed in exasperation while others merely groaned.

"Okay, I think we're just about ready," Janson announced from where he still stood by the machine. "One last thing, though. Something I need to tell you before you were getting your memories. It'll be better to hear it from me than to ... remember the testing."

"What're you talking about?" Harriet asked with a tinge of fear in her voice. I couldn't blame her- Janson was being awfully dramatic and ominous.

"Some of you are immune to the Flare," he responded with his expression suddenly grave. "But... some of you aren't. I'm going to go through the list- please do your best to take it calmly. For an experiment to provide accurate results, one needs a control group. We did our best to keep the virus from you as long as we could. But it's airborn and highly contagious."

He paused dramatically.

"Just bloody get on with it," Newt urged impatiently. "We all figured we had the buggin' disease anyway. You're not breaking our hearts."

"Yeah," Sonya agreed as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Cut the drama and tell us already."

Janson cleared his throat. "Okay, then. Most of you are immune and have helped us gather invaluable data. Only three of you are considered candidates now, but will go into that later. Let's get to the list. The following people are not immune. Dylan, Newt, Abby..."

Everything else faded to the background except Newt's face. I could feel Thomas looking at me, his probably bug-eyed stare burning into my skin. But I couldn't feel anything except a painful jab in my stomach.

Not immune. It didn't make sense. How could they need me for the cure if I wasn't immune?

My mind whirled. The world spun and voices tuned in and out until I felt like I was going to be sick. The shock was numbing me to the bone, causing my fingertips to feel cold. I felt empty. Hollow.

How could Thomas be immune if I wasn't? How—

"Dylan."

My head snapped up to Janson's face, and everything was put back in focus at that instant.

"Come here."

I felt Newt's hand brush my arm before I balled my fists and walked slowly toward him. My gaze was heavy when it was placed on Janson. He made me infuriated without trying.

He handed me a note. A message was scrawled on it in slanted cursive, looping around the page. I could hardly read it; my eyes kept going over the same set of words again and again due to my lack of focus.

Lucy,

You may remember reading "unknown" on your file, and I know you must be confused. A new test is scheduled for tomorrow afternoon at 14:00 to see if anything has changed with your status. We don't suspect it has, but we also hadn't expected for your brain to reject the Swipe, so it's best to be safe. I wouldn't get your hopes up, but there's a minuscule possibility that it could have rejected the Flare as well. This has never happened before. As I said during our meeting, you are a very special case.

One more thing: do not remove the Swipe. It could malfunction, resulting in our information gathered from M.A.R.D to be useless, and everything involving it would have been for nothing. It is vital you listen to this.

Please do exactly as this says. An escort will come by at the designated time to bring you to where the procedure will take place.

Sincerely,

Chancellor Ava Paige

She called me Lucy.

"I wanted to get that out of the way," Janson continued. "Mainly so I could tell you myself and remind you that the whole point of this operation has been to build toward a cure. Most of you not immune are in the early stages of the Flare, and I have every confidence that you'll be taking care of before it goes too far. But the Trials required your participation."

I wanted to throw up again. Taken care of before it goes too far.

Minho asked a question, but I could hardly hear him. My eyes kept reading over the letter in my hands until the lines blurred and I could probably recite the entire thing in my sleep. How was it possible for anything to change from when they first took the test until now?

And Newt. Newt. He wasn't immune, either, but his brain didn't function the way mine did. There would be no re-testing; he would eventually succumb to the disease lurking inside of his head and slowly eating at his humanity.

It all felt too surreal, like I was still in one of my terrors and would be pulled down under by M.A.R.D at any second. I actually hoped that was true. Maybe the next time I woke up, I'd be somewhere far from the clutches of W.I.C.K.E.D and with my friends around me. Everyone would be immune in my perfect world.

"Dylan?" Thomas touched my elbow gently. "What does the note say?"

I quickly snapped back into focus and folded the paper in half to obscure it from his view. "Nothing."

He shot me a look that was mixed evenly with worry and suspicion- one I supposed only he could make. Slowly, his hand came up to mine and plucked the paper from my fingers. He unfolded it and began reading. I couldn't watch, so I turned away and searched the room.

"Where's Janson?" I asked after noticing he was no longer anywhere to be seen.

"He left to let us 'make our decisions," Minho replied with a scoff, using air quotes around his words. "Good riddance, if you ask me."

I felt disoriented. It was a strange experience, like something had to be right in front of me for me to notice it. Newt had probably been standing beside Minho the entire time - along with Teresa on the Runner's other side - but I didn't realize until I turned to look at them.

"Dylan," Thomas said thickly. When I looked at him, he swallowed painfully with his hands slightly trembling. "What the shuck does this mean?"

"Let me see." Newt took the paper from his hands and read it, eyebrows creasing together the farther down he went. There was an unreadable expression on his face. It made me feel like a batch of needles was stuck in my throat.

"It makes no sense," Thomas whispered. "Why did she call you Lucy? Unknown? File? M.A.R.D?"

"Dude, I'm getting a shuck headache just listening to you blabber," Minho said, snatching the letter from Newt. "Let me read this."

Newt's eyes were distant. He, too, copied Thomas' action of swallowing thickly. I suddenly felt the need to get away from everything, to escape the confusion and questions I couldn't answer. It was causing my head to feel tight as if it was packed with too much at once.

When he finished reading, Minho passed the paper back to me. Teresa had been looking over his shoulder to view it as well. She sent me an encouraging nod when my eyes met hers.

"We don't have time to discuss how Dylan suddenly became best buds with Ava Paige, whoever that is," Minho stated with an air of authority in his voice. "For now, we gotta talk about the Swipe. Teresa, I've never made it a secret- I don't like you. But I want to hear what you think anyway."

I rolled my eyes at his harsh words. What had he done to get to know Teresa better? Nothing.

"We should do it," she answered. "It feels like the right thing to me. We need our memories back so we can be smart about things. Decide what to do next."

Thomas looked like he had swallowed a lemon. "Teresa, I know you're not stupid, but I also know you're in love with W.I.C.K.E.D. I'm not sure what you're up to, but I'm not buying it."

His words sent a shock through me- I had never imagined him saying such words to her, especially not with ice in his tone. It was like he was trying to demean her. How much had I missed?

"Me neither," Minho agreed. "They can manipulate us, play with our brains, dude!"

"Don't you think Teresa knows firsthand how they manipulate and control people?" I shot back, unable to keep my mouth shut after that. "She has been W.I.C.K.E.D's personal puppet ever since the Glade. She saved Thomas' life."

"She betrayed Thomas," Minho corrected.

I shook my head. "She told me everything before I left. But you know what else she said? That they'd kill him if she didn't. Would you rather him be dead or a little hurt?"

"Dylan, you're a real sweet girl, but sometimes you're just...too much for me."

I took a step back and closed my mouth with a click of my teeth. My eyes burned into his. I fought desperately to keep them devoid of emotion. It was incredibly hard considering how badly I wanted them to flood with anger.

"Fine," I said in a neutral tone. "If you can't handle me, I'll be over there."

I spun on my heel and marched toward an empty corner. After plopping down, I took out the letter and scanned it over for the hundredth time. It was more for show than anything because of how I had already memorized it.

The emotions inside of me were stirring up a storm. I was tired, but I knew no amount of sleep could make me feel better. I was sick of arguing, of feeling like an anchor was slowly dragging me under the surface. Soon I'd be sinking.

I hated fighting with Minho- both of us were too stubborn to back out. It made me feel even worse knowing that there was yet another rift building between us. What would it take to break it down this time?

The walls were closing in on me. It was similar to how I had felt when the Homestead was being mauled by Grievers and the darkness had been suffocating me. Congestion was building in my chest. I wanted nothing more than to get rid of the pain. For once, I wished M.A.R.D was still there to talk to me.

My file appeared in my mind, along with one of the words printed next to 'phobias.' Monophobia- the fear of being alone.

I wasn't alone then, but it felt like it. Especially when Thomas hardly looked back at me. Newt was watching from where he stood with Aris, Frypan, Minho, and my brother, but he didn't do much else. Flo was giving me a weirded-out look. It was like there was a spotlight on me. Hey, everyone! Watch Dylan as she goes crazy!

The sound of the door re-opening caught my attention. Janson stepped in, sweeping his eyes around until he spotted me in the corner. He held the door open for someone- a male, large, and with a tiny waist. He wore a protective vest, a helmet with a shield over his eyes, and had some sort of large gun in his hands. The sight of him alone sent a chill down my spine.

"Dylan," Janson said, "this is Brent Arson. He's going to escort you to your room, where you'll wait until the procedures are over. Any slight indication you're going to run and he'll shoot you with his Launcher."

"What?" Thomas demanded, pushing his way through the others and toward Janson. His eyes were igniting with outrage. "You'll what?"

Brent aimed the so-called Launcher at him, causing Thomas to stop with his hands raised. "I won't hesitate to shoot you, kid."

"It won't kill you," Janson informed with an amused smile. "But it won't be comfortable, either. Go along."

I locked my jaw and pushed myself to a standing position. After casting a glance in Thomas' direction, noticing the confused and alarmed expression on his face, I followed Brent out of the door.

gif is dylan finding out about The Thing

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this is pretty jumpy and quick because dylan's storyline doesn't involve what the others will be doing for the next few chapters of TDC, sorry!!

also i meant to publish this a lot sooner ha whOOPS

questions:

-were you expecting dylan not to be immune?

-if you were to resurrect anyone in the trilogy who's died already, who would it be?

-will newt give her a note like he did to thomas?

i'm hoping to update again soon!!

-kristyn